


Odd Instances of Strange Coincidence

by Brigdh



Series: Yami no Matsuei AUs [1]
Category: Yami No Matsuei
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Historical, Community: fuda_100, Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M, Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-21
Updated: 2010-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brigdh/pseuds/Brigdh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six unrelated AUs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Odd Instances of Strange Coincidence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Fuda_100's challenge of AUs. 100 words each, except for the last, which is 200 exactly.

**Quatorze Juillet**  
Hisoka threw open doors, but there were no political criminals, no outspoken writers, no poor, oppressed victims of the bloated royalty. The cells of the Bastille held only lunatics and old men, and what seemed a corpse, motionless, wrists bandaged.

"We go," someone shouted. The hallway echoed with distant crashes; smoke skirled along the ceiling. The prison wouldn't hold. "Leave him!" The corpse moved, turned slow, tired eyes to them, and Hisoka was angry with disappointment. He had not fought for this, nor watched the bodies of fellow citizens litter the streets only to cause more death.

"No," he said.

 

* * *

 

**We Are Young and Healthy**  
Tsuzuki was meant for this. Powerful, beautiful; he flows through the movements with skill born from long hours of practice and a talent that is his alone. He is utterly without equal, without precedent even, and though they try to catch him, the others are clumsy and slow in his wake. It's no wonder that Tsuzuki is the subject of rumor and speculation on even the highest, most well-known courts.

And besides, Hisoka thinks, trying not to blush when Tsuzuki catches his eye after a slam dunk and winks at him, his boyfriend looks really hot in a basketball jersey.

 

* * *

 

**And Red as Apples**  
Once upon a time there was a King whose land was troubled, for he was long without child. The Queen had grown round, but nothing came of it, except a small grave and tales of overheard cries from a stillborn babe.

Heartbroken, she yearned for a son. In her winter-killed garden, she spilled blood on the snow and wished for hair the color of summer sun, eyes like spring leaves, and skin pale as an early fall sky. Having been granted her prayer, she died giving birth.

The people, who knew more than the Queen, rejoiced in the infant heir.

 

* * *

 

**The Play's the Thing**  
Tsuzuki: Beware. Thou was much ill of late.

Hisoka: And thou.  
Dost thou know the reason I chose this hell?  
I longed to find my murderer most foul,  
Though, already dead, nothing could I change.  
Now do I know no good shall come, and still  
I seekest my vengeance. I'll out th'truth.

Tsuzuki: To face him hast not quieted your heart?

Hisoka: No understanding lies there. All is dark.

Tsuzuki: What dost thou now?

Hisoka: I stay, if thou wouldst it.

Tsuzuki: Thou'rt young, and rude, and much quick-spoken.

Hisoka: I shall-

Tsuzuki: Stay. I but jest; we are partners.

 

* * *

 

**No Man Needs Nothing**  
The sandstorm shakes the walls of the tent, driving itself through thin cracks to dirty their belongings and stick, gritty, in their sweat. It is dark as midnight, though the sun should be directly overhead now, and the air is so dry that Hisoka tastes dust in his open mouth. It is both quiet and loud, beneath the howl of the wind.

Tsuzuki's face and hands are tan. Everywhere else he is white as the desert dunes, skin necessarily hidden under loose cloth during the harsh, glaring days.

Though alone, separated from the tribe, they do not speak with words.

 

* * *

 

**Sideshow**  
It was worth the ten cents; Hisoka can't see the trick. He knows that the black wings growing out of the man's shoulders have to be fake, but they move when the man shifts, and the feathers are as glossy and perfect as any raven's, and when he flapped them at the command of the circus barker, the muscles rippled across his back.

Hisoka sidles past the caution line. They were warned to stay back, but the tent is nearly empty now, and no one will notice. He hisses to get the man's attention, leaning over the rope meant to deter the curious, and the man's head snaps up, fixing him with an angry stare, eyes purple as anything Hisoka's ever seen. "Are you real?" Hisoka says.

"Of course." He sounds bitter.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"No?" The man moves faster than Hisoka can react, and he's caught and dragged close in a split-second, arm trapped in an iron grip. "You should be."

Hisoka gasps, glares, lifts his chin. "I'm not. If you were really a demon, you wouldn't let them keep you here."

The man looks at him consideringly, and then smiles. "Not any more."

The wings work.


End file.
